Morals Are A Human Invention
by Literapture
Summary: Castiel isn't allowed to leave, but he'd never really want to anyway. Dean/Castiel. Fluff. Angst. Oneshot.


**This is my first completed _Supernatural_ fanfiction so this was really more of a character test so to speak then a real plot filled story kinda thing. Meaning: cliched, kinda pointless, and terribly flufftastic and angsty... pretty much describes this fic. I just wanted to get it done before Christmas. (success!)  
And yes, it does kinda start in the middle of a scene. Deal with it. XP**

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Somewhere at the back of his mind, Dean realized that, with the cold metal of the impala pressed against his knees and Castiel's mouth on his, everything that really mattered to him was there. Well, except for Sam but he really didn't think his little brother was needed at the moment, with the way things were going.

Castiel broke off for a breath but Dean only followed his mouth, preferring to catch him in another kiss rather then allow his lungs a proper reprieve. He was met with little resistance as he felt lips part easily for his tongue. Castiel moaned slightly as Dean's knee shifted between the angel's legs, feeling the hard warmth there.

Castiel spoke against his lips. "Dean, you—."

"Hm?"

Castiel pulled away again, far enough that Dean stopped trying to kiss him and instead looked down at Castiel, vaguely confused.

"What?" he asked.

Castiel hesitated, as though he wasn't sure he wanted to say anything. "I… have to leave," he forced out finally.

Dean blinked. "What?" he repeated, not wanting to take that statement at first glance.

Castiel shifted against Dean's arm. "I have to leave. To heaven. The war there—."

"What?"

Castiel frowned. "You've said that three times now," he pointed out unhelpfully.

"Then let me clarify: _What the f_—."

"Excuse me, sir!"

At the sound, Dean whipped around, his hand reaching automatically for his belt where he normally kept a silver pocket knife.

"Sir?"

His hand relaxed a little on the metal handle as he recognized the dark blue of (supposed) authority making its way up the same overgrown road he had driven earlier that night. Another look showed him the pale glint of a streetlight reflected on the old blue and white Chevy and Dean wanted to kick himself for letting something as simple and obvious as a cop sneak up on him.

"Shit!" Dean cursed, wondering what he should do with the angel practically wrapped around him. Before he could turn back around though, there was a quiet rustle of feathers and a whoosh of air and suddenly Dean was quite alone, pressed against the hood of his car with an inquisitive officer still stepping closer.

"Damn it, Cas, you dick!" he hissed half-heartedly before turning to face the cop. He kept his hand within a short distance from his knife though he was pretty sure Castiel would never leave him alone if he knew something like a demon with a policeman's loaded revolver on hand was stumbling up to him.

"Hey!" Dean raised a hand in greeting, trying to look as nonchalant as someone who lurked around dark streets in the dead of night could manage. "What's up?" Great, as if that didn't sound suspicious.

The officer stopped a couple feet in front of him with his head tilted a little to the left in confusion and Dean couldn't help but think of how poor an imitation of Castiel that was.

The cop squinted at Dean. "What exactly are ya doing out here at two inna morning, lad?"

Committing blasphemy with my angel, now go piss up a tree. "Pit-stop. I've had a long drive." And what do you mean 'lad'? You're what, mid-thirties?

Disbelieving nod; something Dean and Sam got a lot. "Uh-huh. Where from?"

"Nebraska." Well, there was that little shit of a shifter there a couple weeks back; maybe that counted. Dean stuck his hands in his pockets and silently willed the guy to just fuck off.

Another nod but less doubtful now; like he'd given up on trying to find a reason to chuck Dean in a holding-cell for the night. "Well, there's a motel some two blocks from the main road," he offered. "Just if ya want a proper place to sleep. It's cheap but… well, it's cheap."

Well, if Castiel showed up again; cheap room, locked doors, a bed. Or no bed, whatever. "Thanks man, I'll check that out."

"Not a problem." The man tipped his hat before turning to walk back down the path, hands in his pockets and whistling out of tune just like any donut loving stereotype should. Dean waited until the officer was back in his car and backing down the gravel before swinging open the impala's driver-side door and dropping into his seat.

"Cas, get back here," he called to the ceiling of the car as though the angel would be waiting outside on the roof.

"I'm here."

Dean jumped then cursed at himself; even after all this time, every night that Castiel would show up with hardly a rustle of wings, he still jumped at the stupidest of times. He cocked an eyebrow at his rearview mirror and had to suppress a smile at the sight of Castiel sitting innocently in the backseat, hands in his lap, almost like a kid waiting to be driven to school. Dean had a sudden image of a young, brown-haired child sitting in the same seat, with Castiel beside him in the passenger seat while he drove and laughed at something someone had said… but he blinked and it was gone.

"Why're you sitting back there?" Dean asked, still watching Castiel through the mirror. He shook his head a little, trying to get the sudden vision out of his mind.

Castiel blinked. "Sorry, I'll move up—."

"No, forget it, I'll come back there." Dean got out again and opened the back door to drop down next to the backseat's other occupant. He leaned over to kiss Castiel briefly but something was wrong and the angel's blue eyes were still distant when he pulled away. Dean sighed.

"What's wrong, Cas? I know I'd be the first one to admit that I'm not the best at sentiments but I know you at least. What's up?"

Castiel took a breath. "What I was talking about before-…"

Dean turned his head away to look back out the side window. "Yeah, I was kind of hoping you'd forget about that," he sighed.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Castiel frown. "If it was something so inconsequential that I could forget about it that quickly, I doubt I would have brought it up at all."

Dean shrugged and looked back at Castiel's face. "It was worth a shot."

"I can't ignore the civil war being fought in heaven as we speak and, like it or not, I play a significant role in that war. A role that would do you more harm them good to be near."

"Yeah, well, when have I ever gone running for the safer option?"

Castiel's frown deepened. "Never. Or, very rarely. You're stubborn that way. It's a remarkable trait for a man in your situation to have and still be living."

"It's _required_ for someone in my 'situation' if they want to survive the week, let alone Armageddon."

Castiel paused. "Maybe so."

Dean didn't say anything for a minute, just sat watching Castiel. The angel wasn't looking at Dean. Rather his eyes were on his knees and his eyebrows were still dipped in a light frown, an expression that Dean recognized as the slightly more 'worried' brand of the usual one-size-fits-all 'troubled' look. He felt a strong pull from somewhere in his stomach to get out and grab a beer from the trunk but he resisted the urge as that would hardly help the situation.

Dean sighed, something he had a strong feeling he'd been doing too many times that night. "Why now?" He leaned back, resting one arm on the back of the seat and looking up at the ceiling. "I mean, why bring this up now of all times? Something happen up in paradise that would make this such an issue all of a sudden?"

Castiel let out a little huff that wasn't quite a laugh. "No, not really. The war in heaven is, if anything, _constant_," he said.

Dean raised an eyebrow, not quite knowing what to make of that. "Then what?"

Another sigh. Too much oxygen was being wasted this night. "I'm becoming human. Again," Castiel said, still looking at his knees.

"And you don't want to go through that again, okay—."

"Hardly," Castiel cut across him, lifting his head to look Dean in the eyes. "I just don't want to drag you down with me."

Dean froze. "What, to hell?" he asked after a moment.

Castiel nodded. "The more I fall; fall from grace and for you, the more likely it becomes that I'll be banished to hell at some point. Along with all those I'm close to. Namely, you."

"Bullshit."

Castiel blinked and Dean silently cursed himself for snapping like that. He moved to put both hands on Castiel's shoulders, forcing him to continue looking up at Dean.

"Cas, look," he started. "Dignity, modesty, pretense, all that aside, I love you." Castiel blinked again but didn't interrupt. "And I am not letting you wing your ass back up to heaven just for some moral shit that, honestly, I don't even see much sense in."

Just a hint of annoyance worked its way in amongst the worry already showing in blue eyes and Dean was reminded, just a little, of how weak his angel _wasn't_ when he was pissed off.

"Dean, it's not _sense_. I don't know what's right, I just…"

"Try," Dean filled in the silence. "Yeah. You know, sometimes I think you're already a lot more human then you believe." Castiel opened his mouth to respond but Dean kept going. "And I think that's why humans seem so selfish; we don't know what's 'right', Cas, and we get tired of always trying to figure that out. So we step a notch down and end up searching for what's 'best' instead. Best for ourselves, best for our friends, family. Best for everything that matters to _us_. It's not perfect but I think that's kind of the point."

Dean finished and Castiel just looked at him for a minute, his eyebrows pinched together just slightly and Dean imagined he could see a hint of his grace glowing behind his stare. His fingers clenched a bit on the worn tan of the familiar trench coat as though he could keep Castiel where he was that way. How the hell did the night turn out like this?

"Dean," Castiel started. "I _do_ love you. I love you. But what's ri- what's _best_—."

"What's best, hell, what's right even, for both of us, has nothing to do with you leaving." Dean pulled his hands away, moving one to rub the back of his neck. His face was twisted into a pained expression but he couldn't tell if it was from the headache he felt growing somewhere at the back of his skull or from the situation itself. "Cas, I don't even know what else to say except that you're not leaving. You're not leaving me. Please don't leave me."

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "That could almost pass for a prayer," he said with a small smile.

Dean smirked. "Sorry, only so many miracles in a night I'm afraid."

Castiel was quiet for a moment but then he shifted in his seat, turning to lean up against Dean who let his arm fall down around the warm body now next to his.

"Dean… I'll stay," Castiel mumbled into Dean's jacket collar.

Dean closed his eyes and smiled. "Sure, I'll take that as tonight's miracle," he said, tightening his grip just a little and opening his eyes to the faint glow of stars through the smudged glass of the impala's back window.

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**Sorry there wasn't much of a point to it...**

**Seeing as this is my first _Supernatural_ fic... reviews would be appreciated to no end!**

**Grazie per leggere!**


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